


Existential Feelings Brought on by Stargazing

by thebaddestwolf



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaddestwolf/pseuds/thebaddestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her eyes lock on David’s immediately when he walks into the party of some producer’s sprawling country home, one her agent twisted her arm into attending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Existential Feelings Brought on by Stargazing

Billie’s downing her third vodka soda when the energy in the room begins to buzz.

Her eyes lock on David’s immediately when he walks into the party of some producer’s sprawling country home, one her agent twisted her arm into attending. She slowly rakes her gaze downwards along his body, drinking in rough stubble and crisp plaid and the tight trousers that she’s always loved on him. When her eyes drifts back to his face she swears there are traces of a smirk.

But since their quick hellos upon his arrival they’d been skirting around each other all night, exchanging flashes of uneasy smiles across trays of crudités and bubbling-over bellinis. It wasn’t often that their paths crossed nowadays at these industry affairs, strategic networking events passed off as lighthearted soirees just because the liquor was free and flowing.

They used to attend these things together, before she left the show, amongst other things. It had been a riot as they made the rounds arm-in-arm, having a laugh at the expense of fat-cat producers stuffed into too-small suits, gesturing with king crab legs toward the latest it-girl, trying her damndest to hide her disgust when flecks of butter landed on her new silk dress.

After an hour or so, when the wine cellar’s reserves dropped as quickly as the noise level rose, they’d step outside so Billie could sneak a fag and David could sneak his fingers down the neckline of her blouse.

But those days, like so many other things between them, were of the past.

She tries to get him to herself for the catch-up they're long over due to have, but it’s harder now what with her husband’s hand permanently on her hip, with David’s girlfriend’s fingers tethered to the crook of his arm.

After a while Laurence pops to the loo and she scans the room, hoping to steal him away if only for a few minutes, but can’t find him anywhere. She relaxes when she sees his girlfriend standing with a young actress at the sink, stroking her arm assuringly and dabbing at her dress with a dampened cloth. The crab legs have struck again.

That’s when Billie slips through the back door and onto the brick patio, fishing a pack of Marlboros out of her purse. No sooner does she flick her plastic lighter, sparking a flame, when she hears a faint creek coming from somewhere off to the left.

Pulling the cigarette from her lips, she takes him in -- lanky form swaying slightly in a hammock strung between two towering trees on the other side of the garden. With the pale moonlight she can just make out the nearly empty glass of whisky resting on his chest, one leg hanging loosely over the edge of the netting.

She slips her heels off, letting them dangle from two fingers, as she makes her way over to him, swishing her hips even though he doesn’t see her yet. He notices her soon enough, smiling and finishing the contents of his glass with a swig before he sets it on a stone below him with a clink.

“Mind if I join you?” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she smiles around them.

David edges toward one side of the hammock as best he can while she sets her shoes and bag on the ground. When she eases herself down next to him the damn thing starts swinging, Billie giggling and clutching at his shoulders while they waited for it to steady.

“Think I’m getting seasick,” he says, turning on his side and pulling an arm out from under her.

“Oh, don’t be such a wimp.” She shifts too, facing him as the netting tightens, pressing their bodies flush against each other. It’s for comfort, of course, that she drapes one arm over his waist, that she wedges her knee between his legs. “Why are you hiding out here?”

“Needed a bit of air,” he says, hand coming to rest on the small of her back. “The stars are so much brighter here than in London.”

“Well, all I can see is your throat.” She leans forward and nuzzles her nose under his jaw in evidence. “Tell me what they look like.”

David stills for a moment and then his fingers begin a gentle path along her spine, rippling the fabric of her dress.

“There’s thousands of them, everywhere you look. Whenever a cloud passes by it seems to leave even more in its wake. And the longer you look at them the smaller you feel. There’s a power in insignificance, I think.”

Billie’s eyes had fallen closed, but she opens them as she leans back to watch his face. His gaze, of course, isn’t trained on the sky.

“I’ve missed you.”

“We shouldn’t do this.”

When she looks back on this moment later, she isn’t sure who said what.

His hand on her back starts dipping lower, over her bum and along the flesh of her bare thigh.

“Why didn’t it work for us, before?”

His lips move against her forehead as he speaks, touch urging her hips forward, feeling him hard against her thigh. David hisses and grips her knee, pulling it across his hip.

“You decided we should keep it professional, after that one time.”

She ruts against him, seeking out whatever friction she can find in the constraints of the hammock, gasping as his fingers ghost over her arse and glide down the inside of her thigh.

“I was a bloody twat,” he says, fingers circling her skin at her knee before slowly moving upward.

“Yeah, you were.”

“And why not after?”

“Well I met--”

“Right.”

“And then you met--”

This time he cuts her off with his fingers, dragging along the damp lace of her knickers.

“ _Fuck._ ”

She arches into his touch, fisting the back of his shirt and wrinkling the crisp fabric. Snaking a hand between them, she palms him through his trousers before deftly undoing his button and fly.

“Bill, what--” He trails off into a groan as her fingers close around the base of his shaft, giving him a few quick, shallow tugs.

“Tell me about the stars again,” she says, biting down on his shoulder when his fingers dip beneath her knickers and graze her swollen clit. “Why do they make you feel small?”

David huffs in frustration at the angle of his hand, gripping the back of her pants and tugging them down her body, the sound of lace ripping slicing through the stillness of the night. Billie kicks them down her legs until her left foot is free and she brings her knee back to its spot on his hip.

“Because there’s so much out there,” David replies, and it takes her a moment to remember that he’s answering her question. “We’re just a speck. Less than that, even. How can any of this possibly matter.”

At the back of her mind she knows that he means ‘this’ in a general sense, rather than their current round of heavy petting in a stranger’s garden, but that doesn’t stop the statement from bubbling up in her throat.

“It matters to me.”

David pushes two fingers inside her and this time the angle is perfect, her hand stilling around his cock as she moans into his neck. Next his thumb slides through her folds, ringing her clit before pressing against it roughly, and Billie’s breath catches in her throat. Exhaling slowly, she pushes his hand away.

Before he can question her she’s shoving his pants and trousers off his hips, just enough to let his cock come free. A laugh escapes her then, and soon David joins in too, because this is fucking ridiculous and they know it. But that doesn’t make it any less necessary.

She tries to guide him into her, but he only makes it a few inches no matter how she angles her hips, and when he thrusts experimentally the hammock lurches. Gripping the netting, she tries to move on top of him, but that only makes things worse, sounds of creaking rope cutting through the air.

Billie groans and falls back on her side, David’s cock sliding through her folds and bumping against her clit and oh, _oh_ , this might just work. He catches on immediately, one hand gripping her hip while the other inches up her dress, groping her breasts and pinching her nipples while he grinds furiously against her.

Reaching between them to wet her hand, she covers his cock with her palm to give him more friction, and is rewarded with a string of expletives puffed against her earlobe. Her lips set to work on his neck, sucking and biting like they’re teenagers copping a feel in a park, which they may as well be with the way they’re getting off.

His grip on her waist tightens as his breath quickens and she knows he’s close. She tugs on the back of his hair to spur him on, moving her hips in time with his in an attempt to catch up.

He feels so good, fucking brilliant even, if only she weren’t clenching around nothing, if only she could feel his weight on top of her. In that moment Billie curses hammocks and producers and existential feelings brought on by stargazing, because if she doesn’t get to come after all this then maybe nothing matters after all.

But then David’s groaning, his body tensing as his teeth graze her jaw, and several wet spurts hit her palm. His hips don’t falter in their movements as he pants through his orgasm and suddenly two fingers are pushing roughly inside her, curling on their way out just as the head of his cock smooths his hot come over her clit, and fuck, _unh_ , she’s coming, nails digging into his neck as she cries against the column of his throat.

They lie there for a few moments as their breathing evens out, his fingers still inside her, her hand still cupped around his softening cock. When the hammock finally sways to a stop he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping her hand clean as best he can before shimmying his trousers up his waist and tucking himself back inside.

There’s a drop he missed -- a speck -- and Billie waits for him to look at her before she places her finger in her mouth, humming as she sucks before freeing her digit with a soft pop. He’s gaping at her, hands traveling over her body as he leans down to finally kiss her.

He tastes like whiskey and, after a few moments, salty, and when they finally break away his hand is between her legs again. Billie shifts onto her back, blindly reaching down to grope for her cigarettes and lighter with one hand. She finds them, somehow, and lights one up as David captures her nipple in his mouth, wetting the thin fabric of her dress with his tongue.

This time, when she comes, her eyes are on the stars. But she doesn’t feel insignificant at all.


End file.
